Injustice Pirates: Follow the Straw Hat
by Pokefanljb
Summary: "Follow the Straw hat. Find One Piece. Save the world." This was the message Jon Reaper heard upon waking on a deserted island in the South Blue. With nothing but his favourite hat and weird fruit superpowers, Jon gathers a crew of outcasts and sets sail. But this isn't the world we all know and love, and it will take everything in Jon's power to survive it. Slightly AU, OC crew
1. Chapter 1 - Imaginary islands are stupid

Injustice Pirates: Follow the Straw Hat 

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Chapter 1: Imaginary islands are stupid. 

Jonathan Reaper awoke to the sound of waves crashing and a warm summer wind blowing sand through his hair. He sat up and looked around, his eyes squinting in the bright sunshine. He was sat on a beach of fine sand that curved left and right out of sight. Behind him were a group of large palm trees swaying in the wind and beyond them a shadowed jungle forest, whilst before him was an endless blue expanse that stretched all the way to the horizon. In other words, if he had to guess, a desert island.

"Huh," he muttered, "this is new." Jon was both intrigued and confused by his current circumstances. Whilst the idea of relaxing on this peaceful beach was a good one, he was more alarmed by how he got there, particularly since he remembered falling asleep in his bed the night before.

"I wonder how I-woah!" he said, looking down. "That is a penis. I am naked. Hmm…" He looked up at the sky. "I'm going to get sunburned." Priorities Jon, priorities. He stood up, brushing the sand off his body and took a step towards the wooded area before promptly catching his foot on some cloth and face planting onto the sand. "Owww…" He pulled his head up and frowned at the offending article, only to smile as he quickly pulled the item out of the sand. "My boxers, sweet!" Jon staggered as he pulled the underwear on and stood up proudly, scratching his butt. Note to self, sand is itchy. He quickly started digging, hoping to find more clothes hidden in the sand. After ten minutes of searching to no avail, he finally found something, and was very surprised when he dug up one of his most treasured possessions. In Jon's hands was a simple, light grey trilby. He had bought the hat in China on a school trip for an extortionate price, long before he'd understood the concept of haggling. The simple hat was the beginning of a stylish collection of trilbies, and he now had one from every country he'd ever visited. China, Switzerland, Cyprus, Wales, Australia, Scotland, each hat represented a set of memories from his life, milestones that were more precious to him than gold. So why the hell did he end on a desert island with nothing but underpants and his favourite hat? What possible circumstances would have led to this? It only took him a moment to come to a solution.

"Ah, bother. I'm hallucinating aren't I?" he sighed. "Oh well." He placed the hat on his head and set off down the beach. "At least I won't get too badly sunburned now," he said cheerfully.

After a quarter hour of walking along the smooth curve of the beach, he confirmed his suspicions as he looked down at the indentation in the sand that was left by his face earlier. He'd walked a complete circle round the beach. "So I am on an island. Crap." He took a deep breath and let it out, relaxing himself and clearing his mind. No food, no water, one pair of underpants, a hat and an imaginary island. That pretty much sums up his current problems. Jon grinned. "Not so bad, there could be alligators, or sharks." He quickly scanned his surroundings, ready and waiting for hallucinatory animals to appear. When they didn't, he let out a sigh of relief. "Ok. Let's do this.

* * *

"This place is the worst." It had been a few hours since Jon had awoken on the island and he was already bored. He had spent some time exploring, searching the central jungle for any food or water. He had started by searching the palm trees for coconuts, and was shocked and depressed to find there weren't any at all. Seriously, what kind of palm trees don't have coconuts? Luckily he had managed to find a small pond of clean water, although it had a definitively tangy taste that Jon was sure wasn't healthy. But water was water, even if it was imaginary. After another hour of aimless wandering Jon's determination had begun to waver, and he now found himself laying on the beach, watching the setting sun beside a rudimentary campfire with the music of Bob Marley stuck in his head. "Cos every little thing, is going to be-no Bob, it's not going to be alright, grow up!" It turns out it had been mid-afternoon when he awoke on his island, and evening was fast approaching. Jon gathered his collection of palm leaves and layered them over his body. "It's not a duvet, but it'll have to do."

Jon wasn't completely useless, he knew he was in danger and the lack of food was a big problem, but the calming waves and the roaring fire next to him eased his mind. Tomorrow would be another day, and his problems could wait till then. But whilst he was attempting to sleep, he figured he might as well try to figure out a way off this crappy island. Jon was not a woodsman, he was a university student from England, and his life of privilege had not taught him the necessary skills to build a raft or survive long periods of time in the wild. His student life and diet of takeaways and spirits had given him a rounded figure, and the only decent muscles he had were from occasional hours spent working out, all hidden away beneath thin layers of fat. After walking for hours and tiring easily, Jon decided one of the first things he'd do when he got off this island was work out more. Besides his weight, he stood at average height, his medium brown hair and short neat beard only added to his average appearance. His only redeeming feature was his piercing eyes, a strange blend of blue, green and grey that hinted at a sharp mind beneath them.

Since a raft was a no go and pulling off a Tom Hanks in Cast Away was even more ridiculous, Jon's only option was something quick and short term. He couldn't wait around for a plane or ship to find him, so he had to find another way off the island. As he lay on the sand and drifted off, a plan slowly began to form in his head. Maybe Pirates of the Caribbean wasn't such a silly movie after all. 

* * *

The next day was soon upon him and Jon was not in a good mood. Sometime during the night his fire had gone out, and he had spent the rest of the evening freezing his sandy ass off. In hindsight the fire clearly hadn't been big enough and he hadn't collected enough spare firewood for when the fire ran down. Luckily, he wouldn't have to worry about spare firewood after today as his new fire would be much, much bigger.

Jon spent the first few hours of the morning collecting all the dry leaves and wood he could find and piled them up in approximately the centre of the island. By the time he was done the pile was almost as tall as he was, and he hoped it would be enough to set the whole forest on fire. One big smoke beacon to let everyone know he was here. Hey, if it worked for Keira Knightley then it would work for him too. Unfortunately, Jon didn't have a huge collection of rum to act as an accelerant, he'd checked, so he prayed to the Gods that a normal fire would be enough. And that it wouldn't rain. And that someone would come rescue him. And that he would wake up from the coma he was obviously trapped in. And a pony.

After piling the wood, he set about trying to light it. As he had done last night, he grabbed his 'Lighting stick' and rubbed it furiously between his hands, giggling like a school girl the whole time. After the stick had rotated sufficiently, the plank of dry wood beneath it started to heat and spark. Once it had lit some dry moss he had gathered at small flames, he carefully placed the moss beneath the immense bonfire and watched the fire build. Every so often he would fan some palm leaves at the fire to help it grow, and after a few hours of watching and fanning, the pile of wood had transformed into a blazing bonfire. Now came the hard part. Ever so carefully, as not to burn himself, Jon collected pieces of burning branches from the bonfire and spread them out throughout the forest, underneath trees and in dense clumps of bushes. After another hour, small fires had started growing throughout the jungle and smoke filled the air. The underbrush caught alight as easily as the leaves, and soon a huge plume of smoke rose into the air.

"Now that's what I call a signal fire!" Jon announced proudly, staring up at his masterpiece from the safety of the beach. His cheery mood was interrupted by a sharp pain in his stomach and a loud growl that echoed from deep within his body. "I'm so hungry," he moaned, clutching his stomach, "I should have some more… water…" he trailed off, looking back to the fledgling inferno that held his water supply. Uh-oh.

Most of the time when Jon was alone, or with close friends, he could let himself open up and be his goofy, laid back self, much like he was acting now. But even though his laid back attitude often presented him as daft and foolish, Jon was not an idiot. He knew that going back into the forest would be dangerous, deadly even, but his only supply of clean water was back in the jungle. He knew he could only last a couple of days without water, and he hoped in that time he would be rescued. But if help came after the three day limit was up, he would be a dead man. Jon thought about waiting till the fire had died down, but realised that the water would soon be contaminated with burnt wood and charcoal. Realistically, his only hope of surviving till help arrives is to run in now before the fire gets really dangerous, and drink as much as he can. Before he could begin to second guess himself he started running into the blazing forest.

Jon ran beneath the flaming leaves making steady and careful progress, watching the leaves above and the ground below for any sign of flames. He'd already gotten used to the dull ache in his feet from stepping on twigs and stones all day long, but he was extra cautious to avoid any burnt areas. Even though he knew the wood and flames may well be imaginary, he didn't want to risk the chance that his hallucinations were more real than anticipated. Getting burned to death by not so imaginary flames would be an embarrassing way to go. Thankfully, the island jungle was not very large, Jon figured it was a couple hundred metres across from beach to beach, and the small pond wasn't very far from the northern side where he'd woken up. After a couple of minutes of dodging forest fires and a few close encounters with falling branches, he made it to the small pond. Luckily for him it was still 'clean', and without hesitation he dunked his head into the pond and gulped down as much water as he could.

After a minute of drinking he sat up and groaned, holding his slightly distended belly and pushing down the urge to puke, which was extremely difficult when he was simultaneously trying not to cough in the smoke filled air. He turned to go back to the beach but paused, looking over to the rocky overhang beside the pond where the collected water dripped down. Earlier in the day the rocks had been hidden by a multitude of brambles and bushes, but now they'd been burned away and there was a clear opening in the rock. And Jon could see something glinting inside. Normally Jon would have explored the cave with wild abandon, but the fire was growing in intensity, the temperature had skyrocketed and the smoke was getting denser. He could explore the cave once the fire had died down... is what he would have liked to do, had a burning tree to his left not started creaking and cracking as the dead wood collapsed in on itself. Far faster than he would have imagined, the tree began to fall right onto the point where Jon was standing. Talk about bad luck. The adrenaline hit him before the tree did, and with his heart thumping in his chest he dove into the cave, just as the tree hit the ground. Before he knew it the entranceway was sealed off as the scorched wood barricaded the exit behind him.

Jon lay still on the ground, coughing and wincing as his body ached all over. His easy life had never let him grow accustomed to pain, and the sudden change from mildly annoying to extreme discomfort felt like agony. His lungs were dry, his back was aching and his head hurt worst of all. He'd clearly hit it on the ground when he dove, and his cloth hat hadn't helped in the slightest.

"Oww," he winced as he sat up slowly, blearily casting his gaze at the cave around him. "I should not have gone back for the-DEAD PERSON!" Jon shrieked, his high pitched yell reminiscent of a prepubescent girl. As Jon had dived into the cave, he had unceremoniously landed on a skeletal corpse. Scrambling away from the body, all pain and discomfort forgotten in an instant, he looked over the person he had accidently defiled. Whoever they were, it was clear they had been a woman in life, judging from the high heeled boots and the bra straps he could see beneath a fashionably long black coat. Whoever she was, she had style. Jon looked away from the body and looked around the rest of the cave, mostly empty besides the one object that had caught his eye in the first place. It was shiny, a beautifully multi-coloured sphere that reflected the light that glimmered down from the open ceiling. Thin black lines traced a swirling pattern across the orb… wait, open ceiling? Jon glanced up and sure enough, there was an opening large enough to climb through.

Decidedly in a hurry, he scooped up the many coloured sphere and moved to climb the rocky wall, but paused as he came to a realisation. What he previously thought of as a strange metallic orb… was actually a fruit. It was the size of a large grapefruit and soft to the touch, like a peach, and he could now see the stalk that poked out from the top, just as swirly as the strange pattern. Jon gave the strange fruit a once over, prodding it and smelling it, and decided it was probably fresh. Of course, how such a fruit had managed to stay so fresh in this dull, dingy cave didn't even cross his mind. Jon didn't question the probably imaginary product of his now extensive hallucination. Deciding that climbing the wall and holding onto the fruit would way too much effort, Jon shrugged and took a large bite out of the fruit, intent on devouring it all before he left.

Between the moment the fruit entered his mouth and the subsequent moment when the taste shocked his mouth into swallowing it whole, the only thing on Jon's mind was mind numbing agony. Later, when Jon had the time to revisit this memory, he would try to describe the indescribable taste of the fruit he had eaten. Before the taste can even be mentioned, the first thing Jon felt was the texture. The sensation of biting into the fruit started out much like a bad grape, with a soggy squish. Once the teeth had broken the skin with a mushy pop, the flesh of the fruit was chewed with a slimy crunch, much like a raw, fruity squid, both rubbery and tough. Finally, the action of swallowing the fruit left much to be desired as the flesh was slimy but not at all smooth. The rough, rubbery flesh slid over the tongue and down the throat, grazing every taste bud along the way. Once the fruit was swallowed, the small, chewed-off pieces covered his mouth, clinging to his tongue, gums and teeth. Next, the taste. It started off simple, sharp sourness pervading his mouth as the fruit was chewed. As the juices were released, a strong, almost meaty tang added to the sourness and became so overwhelmingly pungent that both the swallow and gag reflexes were activated. As the flesh began sliding over the tongue and down the throat, the strong tang turned incredibly bitter. Finally, all that remained in Jon's mouth was the sour taste of piss, and the bitter, meaty tang of rotten dog shit. Combined, the texture and taste were strong enough to kick-start a chain reaction in Jon's body, leading to a convulsive fit of attempted coughing and vomiting. All Jon knew in the moment he took the bite was that it was the worst decision of his life. Later, he would recant that particular belief for obvious reasons.

After a minute of dry heaving and furious spitting, Jon stood up, one hand on his stomach and one covering his mouth. He was still shaking softly, and a cold sweat had broken out all over his body. He opened his mouth to swear and shout and curse that damned fruit to hell, but he found that there were truly no words to express his anger and disgust. "EEEEEAAAAAUUUUURRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!" So he expressed it through screaming. Jon took the unholy fruit and smashed it into ground over and over again until it was nothing but a pile of rainbow mush. Jon turned and stalked away from the fruits remains, intent on climbing out of the cave and forgetting that any of that had ever happened. He barely noticed that the discarded fruit had lost its shine and was now dull and matt.

After a minute of grunts and pained sighs, Jon finally made it over the ledge and onto the rocky shelf above the pond. He would have laid there for hours had the sky above him not literally been on fire. The forest fire had gotten significantly larger in the time he had spent in the cave and now almost every piece of plant life was on fire in some way. He had to get out of there. Climbing to his feet and coughing the smoke out of his lungs, Jon made his way down from the rocks and back the way he came. The floor was much hotter than it was earlier, bits of ash and burning charcoal stabbed Jon's feet as he fast walked back to the beach and he hoped they wouldn't be burned too severely. The smoke was thick and cloudy in the air now, it burned his lungs and stung his eyes and the combination of coughing and blindness was making following the path extremely difficult. Suddenly, Jon's heart stopped beating. He wasn't too sure what it was that had tipped him off, the sound of a snapping vine or a sudden movement in his peripheral vision, but he was alerted just in time to see the burning canopy above him begin to fall. The branches and vines had tangled to form a hellish, blazing net that stretched metres apart. Jon knew in that instant that there was no escape from this, there was no time to run and nowhere to run to.

"NO!" he cried, eyes tearing and voice cracking. He threw up his hands and crouched to the ground and waited for the fire to come crashing down.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Ever so slowly, Jon opened his eyes and looked up at the magnificent sight around him. Everything was red. The plants, the smoke, even the fire was redder than before, a rich crimson with a centre of deep orange. Jon could even see the sky above the trees tinted ruby red. Additionally, everything was happening in slow motion. Jon watched the canopy fall ever so slowly, creeping downwards inch by inch. Everything was burning at a fraction of a second and Jon could see every single red, red-hot flame flickering in its own unique motion. Somehow the plants, the smoke, the fire, even time itself, had slowed down.

For the last 24 hours, Jon had been keeping a sane head. Appearing on a deserted island, starting a forest fire, finding a dead body, eating the devil's own fruit, he had pushed through these events with determination and courage. But in the face of the truly impossible, his mind finally cracked, and he ran. He sprinted through the forest, feet burning and lungs aching, with little to no regard for his surroundings. All he knew was that he had to get out. He didn't notice everything go back to normal speed as his focus shattered, and he didn't hear the thundering crash of the burning canopy hitting the ground he was stood in a moment before. The fire was everywhere, the smoke was everywhere, he couldn't see, he couldn't hear, he couldn't feel, run, run, run, run, run, runrunrunrunrunrun… Splash.

Water? Jon looked down with wide eyes and saw a puddle of sea water lapping at his feet, comforting him. He turned back to the jungle and saw it burning in the distance, a track of footprints in the sand leading all the way there. He hadn't even noticed himself leaving the forest. He stepped back from the very shallow water and trudged back to his makeshift camp. He did manage to notice when he collapsed however, the taste of sand in his mouth was kind of a giveaway. His eyes closed slowly as he felt all his exhaustion hit him like a freight train. As he drifted off, his oxygen deprived mind imagined a figure kneeling above him, whispering in his ear. He lay still in the warm afternoon air, and let sleep take him.

" _Follow the Straw hat. Find One Piece. Save the world."_

* * *

 **Hello! Welcome to my new fanfiction, Injustice Pirates: Follow the Straw Hat.**

 **This is not my first dabble into fanfiction, but it has been quite a while since I've attempted any such forms of writing.**

 **Between my Creative Writing course at university and the actual novel I'm writing on the side, hopefully this will be a nice form of stress relief and fun from actual work! So yes, hopefully my writing reflects the fact that i'm not completely awful at writing (but i'm sure that is up to some debate ^.^).**

 **This idea has been running around in my head for a year now, and I have on and off written bits and bobs when the motivation hit me. Finally, after searching through fanfictions and finding so many good OC/SI fics that were discontinued or half assed attempted, I decided enough was enough, and it was time for me to throw in my piece! I will not give up on this story out of the blue, and the only two things that could change that are a SERIOUS lack of interest, or SERIOUS life events, if my depression or anxiety kicks up again or if everything becomes too overwhelming (workwise) yadah yadah yadah.**

 **So to quickly clear things up, yes, this is a guy from earth, it's one of those fanfictions. Will he sail with the straw hats? ha, no. He will form his own crew of OC characters as they sail the grandline. However, this isn't a simple hey! i'm in the one piece world and look, I'm going to become pirate king because I can, this story is very well thought out and pre-planned, and they won't just be sailing for shits and giggles. Whilst FUN is a top priority in this story, there is a deeper plot going on. I'm not going to just make shit up as I go along.**

 **Now, that being said, this is a fanfiction with a chapter by chapter update system, so of course the story will alter and evolve as I write it, depending on peoples comments, feelings and reviews. Anything to better the story for you guys!**

 **As mentioned in the summary, this is slightly AU, and in a couple of chapters you'll find out exactly how its different. ehehehehehehehe. But yeah it's not massively changed, but there is a key difference to the canon.**

 **If anyone is interested in timelines, this takes place a week or two after the battle of Marineford.**

 **So yeah, hope you enjoy my 'little' story, reviews and favs are of course welcome, any kind of criticism is appreciated, constructive would be nice though aha, and I will reply to them via private messages? or in chapter? sometimes stories can get a bit clunky when you try to answer every review before the chapter begins (and it can really mislead with the word count aha), but if someone makes a good point in a review, then I may answer publically if its particularly relevant.**

 **I will try to update as quickly as I can, as I mentioned I am at university so I do have other work that needs doing, but I have many love for One Piece and this story, so I will do my best to update as often as I can!**

 **Either way, Enjoy Injustice Pirates: Follow the Straw Hat :)**

 **PokefanLJB**

 **(Last updated 03/11/2016)**

 **P.S. - I am English, just for the heads up if certain words or dates are written in different ways ^.^**


	2. Chapter 2 - Don't call them boats

Injustice Pirates: Follow the Straw Hat

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Chapter 2 - Don't call them boats

 _"Follow the Straw hat. Find One Piece. Save the world."_

Ever since Jon had awoken to a new dawn on the beach, those simple words had echoed in his mind. Frankly they worried him, particularly since it rather cruelly highlighted the progressive decline of his mental state. First visual and now auditory hallucinations? Save the world? Jon couldn't help but think that this all smelled suspiciously like megalomania to his keen senses. Not that he trusted those senses in the slightest of course, there was no telling what was real and what wasn't.

It was now his third day on the island and the effects were starting to show. He was in a constant state of hunger and the splitting ache in his stomach was beginning to drain his energy. He'd stopped pacing the island, checking for rescue boats as he'd walked, and in order to catch his breath he'd laid down in the sand and was now admiring his handiwork from the day before. The once vibrant forest had been utterly reduced to charcoal, ash and dust. Jon was confident that, beside himself, there was nothing else alive on the entire island, except maybe a crab or something, but Jon hadn't had the good fortune to find one yet. There were still a few fires alight in the newly formed wasteland and the burning white charcoals provided a steady wave of heat that kept Jon warm, even during the night when the temperature plummeted. Jon continued to pray for blue skies in the hopes that rain wouldn't fall as he'd foolishly burnt anything that would act as a natural umbrella. Luckily for Jon his improvised beacon continued unabated as the incinerated remains of the jungle continued to release copious amounts of smoke into the sky. However, the inescapable smell of burning wood had permeated the whole island. He had begun to wonder if it was he who smelled and not the island, but that particular line of questioning had led him to wonder if olfactory hallucinations should be added to his increasingly large list of symptoms.

Putting aside the thoughts of an impending mental breakdown, Jon turned his focus to his feet. Running through the burning jungle had burned and scratched his soles and for the first few hours of the morning he had walked with ginger steps. After going down to the shoreline and excruciatingly washing all the sand out of his feet, he had placed palm leaves on his soles and tied them into makeshift flip-flops. Personally Jon thought the idea was inspired, right up until the point the leaves started burning when he tried walking back to the cave. It was not Jon's smartest moment. Thankfully, whilst the cave was now practically inaccessible, he had plenty of palm leaves to spare on new flip-flops that he quickly finished making… after he rewashed his latest burns of course.

"Ow," Jon said after poking a damaged spot on his foot. "Ow. Ow. Ow." It relieved his boredom. "Ow." After the damage his feet has sustained the day before, he was lucky his feet hadn't gotten infected. Yet. "Ow." Maybe deserted islands didn't have infectious diseases? "Ow." But then again, he could still contract in imaginary disease. "Ow." He wondered what kind of hallucination that would fall under. Sensory? Viral? "Ooooh?" Hey, that poke didn't feel half bad. "Ow!" Never mind.

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Oat! Wait, what? Oat? No wait, not oat, boat! Boat! BOAT!" Jon yelled, racing to his feet. He immediately regretted the action as he promptly fell on his arse and clutched his feet in pain. However, past the shoreline and halfway to the horizon floated the most beautiful thing Jon had ever seen. A boat. And not just any boat, a sail boat. Before Jon could even wonder why it was a sailing boat, and not something more modern, he carefully hopped to his feet and padded over to the shore with dainty steps.

"HEY! HEY! OVER HERE BOAT PEOPLE!" Jon waved his arms frantically for the next minute and was rewarded by a booming reply.

"Attention the island. We are coming ashore. If you are hiding any weapons, please disarm immediately." Weapons? Where was he going to hide those, under his hat? In his boxers? In his… actually he didn't want to think about that one. Deciding to stay as neutral as possible, he put his hands on his hips and waited for the party to arrive. Jon watched as a smaller vessel was lowered into the ocean and started moving towards the island. He could just about see the oars pushing the rowboat and as it neared closer he began to make out the figures approaching. They all seemed to be wearing the same thing: white shirts, hats and blue scarfs. He had to give credit to his imagination, they looked damn fine in uniform.

"Much smart," muttered Jon, "many cool, wow." As he giggled away to himself the rowboat stopped at the beginning of the shallows, about 200ft out from the shore, and the uniformed sailors got out. He figured they were being cautious, judging from the earlier wariness in the broadcast, and not wanting to be discourteous he waded out into the ocean to meet them. He was alarmed however to note that the approaching sailors were armed and carrying rifles. Perhaps they were particularly wary of half-naked men in trilbies for some reason and had-

The next thing Jon knew he was underwater. For some reason his entire body had completely given out and he was now lying prone on the seabed. Well, that was probably embarrassing to watch. At least he was in the shallows so all he had to do was sit up and… he couldn't move. Jon couldn't move anything. Nothing was responding, he couldn't shift his arms or legs an inch. Somehow he had been completely paralysed and his whole body felt heavy, like a great weight was pressing down on him and pushing him into the sand beneath. Had he gotten an infection from his feet? Had the sailors shot him? Was that why he felt so impossibly tired? Jon started to panic, and as he did his fragile hold on his bodily functions gave in. He unconsciously took a deep breath to scream and inhaled a lungful of sea water. Before he felt strong hands reach down and take hold of him, he blacked out.

* * *

Jon had never had the displeasure of drowning before and when he awoke, violently coughing sea water out of his chest, he decided it was the worst. After lung-vomiting out the remaining water he took in a sweet, delicious breath. Somehow, oxygen had never tasted so good in his life. While he recovered from his near death experience, Jon took the time to admire his surroundings and was promptly shocked to discover that he was completely surrounded. There must have been at least twenty people all standing round looking down at him from above.

"Sup," Jon croaked, sitting up.

The people around him visibly relaxed, apparently glad to see he was alright, and one large, bearded man knelt down and extended his hand. Jon gladly took it and was practically flung across the ship as the man pulled hard on his hand.

"Woops! Light little thing ain't ya?" the bearded man barked. "Glad ta see you're alright lad."

"Glad to be alright," muttered Jon, rubbing his now aching shoulder, "thanks for the rescue."

"Not ta worry lad, it's what we marines are 'ere for. It's odd though, me and the boys certainly were surprised ta see smoke this far out, and from an island no less! What were ya doin' way out there?"

"I'd like to know that myself," muttered Jon. "No idea, sorry."

"Right… Well, glad to 'ave you aboard, I'm Commodore Beardfist and this 'ere is Lieutenant Commander Hasuka." Beardfist said, gesturing to a slim woman on his left. She had long hair that concealed half her face and both her eyes in a sharply sloped fringe. In fact, Jon wondered how she could see at all through the abundance of hair.

"I'm Jon, Jon Reaper, it's a pleasure to meet you Commodore B..." Wait, Beardfist? Jon automatically looked down at the man's hands and was shocked to see that they were completely covered in black braided hair. The hair on his hands were coiled with what looked like metal wire and it wrapped round each of his fingers. Jon had no doubt that if the commodore formed a fist those metal wires would be exposed and unquestionably dangerous. The braided hair extended all the way down the man's arms, coiling round until they reached his beard which had been carefully braided into the two separate ropes, one for each arm.

"Nope, that's it. It's official. I've reached the point of madness. Is this normal?" Jon asked to the marines surrounding him. "Should I be expecting more of this from now on?" He watched as they all looked at each other with confused glances and shrugged. Fantastic.

"Reaper? I don't mean ta offend you 'ere, but who the 'eck would name their kid Reaper?" Beardfist continued, completely oblivious to Jon's interruption.

Seriously? This man had the audacity to question Jon's birth name when his chosen epithet was Beardfist? Unbelievable. "W-well they d-didn't choose to name me that," Jon stammered, "Reaper's my surname."

"Huh?" Beardfist cocked his head to the side? "Then why'd ya say it last?"

"Because it's my surname... how do you say it?"

"First of course! It's ya family name ain't it?"

"Yeah, right, of course… Sorry, been on that island awhile I guess." Jon chucked nervously, "Well the name's Jon, Reaper Jon." Surnames first? As delusional facts go that one was pretty odd, and this drawn out hallucination was starting to get worryingly detailed. Not that Jon would admit it right now but the possibility that this hallucination was actually real was slowly growing in his mind.

"Sir, perhaps we should get back to the business at hand," the Lieutenant Commander said.

"Oh! Good thinkin' Hasuka, everyone get back to work and set sail again for Kama Island!" The sailors who had seconds ago been watching the exchange hurried off and got back to… whatever it was they were doing. He could see one marine tying something with a rope whilst another ran around carrying a… cannonball? Yep, that was definitely a cannonball. Awesome. "Jon!" Beardfist called to the distracted young man. "Follow me."

Jon walked along after the large man, following him to the stern of the ship where he could see the once burning island moving swiftly into the distance. The boat he was on was really rather impressive up close. He liked the elaborate railings and clean lacquered wooden flooring and was awestruck by the huge masts holding the wind-spread sails. The sails in question were either pattered with a strange symbol vaguely reminiscent of a seagull carrying a spanner or the word MARINE, both painted in a bold blue. Regardless of its antiquated design, there was no denying that this was a powerful ship.

"Ya like her?" Beardfist asked grinning.

"She's… impressive. A real nice boat." Jon commented. He looked out over the quickly receding ocean, captivated by the speed the ship was making. He turned to Beardfist to ask how fast but was shocked to find that the man was having some sort of fit. He was shaking in place, his face a rich beet red and he was frothing at the mouth, spittle spotting his beard.

"Uh, Beardfist, you ok? Buddy? Pal?" When he showed no response to Jon's inquiries of his well-being he shouted the Lieutenant Commander over. She came running, pushing Jon firmly aside and carrying a foldable deckchair which she unfolded, sat the unwell Commodore down. Then she turned to him.

"What did you say to him?" she demanded.

"I didn't do anything! I just said I liked the boat."

"HEEUURGGHH," shouted Beardfist through clenched teeth.

Hasuka sighed. "Listen, Jon, when the commodore gets angry and highly stressed, his body reacts like this. Strangely enough in a fight he's fine, but nothing makes him angrier than people misnaming ships as… not ships."

"So… you mean to say… a boat."

"AARRUUGGHH."

"Don't say it!" Said Hasuka, smacking Jon's arm.

"Ow! Don't hit me, I only accidently called this ship a boat."

"OOAARRGGHH."

Jon giggled. Hasuka hit him again and he stopped. "Sorry, sorry, got carried away."

She sighed and led Jon away from the now resting commodore, having angered himself unconscious. They walked up to the central mast which was supported by a circular, two tiered block. They entered the interior of the ship and walked into a small room with a single table and two chairs. The Lieutenant Commander sat down in one and gestured for Jon to sit in the other. "Since Commodore Beardfist is currently resting, I will be in charge of your interrogation." Uh-oh, interrogation? That didn't sound good. Jon tentatively took a seat and tried to look as friendly as possible, smiling at the woman across from him. She didn't smile back. "For the record, please give me your full name."

"Jon Reap-wait, no sorry, Reaper Jonathan." For some reason he got the feeling that she was watching him intently, studying his every answer, even if he couldn't see her doing it behind her fringe. He decided to be extra cautious with what he said and did.

"Why were you on that island?"

"I have no idea."

She frowned, judging from her pursed lips. "Explain."

"I don't know how I got there. Three nights ago I went to sleep in my bed and I woke up the next morning on that island with no memory how I got there."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Yes, because it's true." Jon watched her frown deepened. "What, it is."

"Are you a pirate Jon?"

He took a moment to process the question before bursting out into laughter. He cackled away for at least a minute but by the time he'd calmed down he realised she wasn't smiling. "Oh shit, you weren't joking. Uh, no, I'm not a pirate, do I look like a pirate?" He asked, gesturing to himself. It was at that moment he realised he still wasn't wearing anything except a trilby and boxers and started blushing furiously. "Uh Hasuka, could I have some clothes?"

"No," she said, shutting him down instantly. He counted himself lucky that she didn't look fazed by his lack of clothing in the slightest.

"Ok then. Why would you think I was a pirate?"

"Why else would you be abandoned on an island in the middle of the South Blue? Maybe you mutinied against your captain or were captured by enemy pirates. Anything is a better excuse than, you don't remember."

"It's not if it's true," grumbled Jon.

"Where are you from?"

"London."

"London? I've never heard of that island."

"It's… uh, it's in the north blue," Jon said. Smooth.

"The north blue… You mean to tell me you travelled hallway round the world and over the Redline in a single night, and have no memory of it." Hasuka said in disbelief.

Not so smooth. "Well, I fell asleep in my bed which happened to be in the North Blue, so if we are in the, what was it you said? South Blue? then yes, because that's what happened."

"I don't like puzzles, Mr Reaper, and I don't like the fact that your story doesn't add up-"

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock," Jon interrupted. "Look, we can sit here for hours and argue over this but I'm half naked, I smell and my feet hurt, so here's the deal. I'm sorry you don't like my tragic story, but that's what happened, Ok?!" Jon said, shouting towards the end. The room was silent for a moment before Jon let out a sigh. "I'm sorry I shouted, it's been a rough few days."

Hasuka stayed quiet for a few seconds and he could tell that she was judging him. Finally, after a long pause, she spoke. "What's a Sherlock?"

Jon slammed his forehead into the table.

* * *

Over the next few hours the Lieutenant Commander continued to quiz him, questions that mostly just covered his time on the island. Jon described his 'island adventure' as accurately as possible and he could tell that Hasuka was steadily growing impressed by his actions on the island.

"Not many people would have the courage to do what you did," she said after he mentioned deciding to burn down the forest, "it was foolish and dangerous, but it did save your life."

However, when he got to the part about finding the cave and eating the strange fruit she suddenly picked up. After he described the fruit to her he was very surprised when she asked if it tasted awful. Not wanting to think about that awful experience any more than he had to, he nodded and agreed, but didn't elaborate.

"Tell me Jon, has anything unusual happened to you since you ate the fruit? Anything strange or particularly memorable?" Jon was reminded of the moment in the forest when the world turned red and slowed down, but given her aggressive attitude earlier and her sudden and earie interest in this subject, he didn't mention it.

"Besides the weirdness of the last three days? Nothing much, except your bosses weird beard, like seriously, what's up with that?"

He soon finished telling his story and Hasuka begrudgingly allowed Jon to leave, and most importantly, put on some clothes. He was handed one of the marine uniforms and bustled down some stairs towards the showering facilities. He was shown a rather rudimentary bicycle pump and told that he had to draw water up from the ocean using the pump in order to shower. After a quick cycle and an annoyingly cold shower he was happy that he no longer smelled of ash and smoke, and put on the spare clothes he'd been given. The trousers were a little tight and the shirt a little big but he still smiled and thanked the marines for their hospitality and was directed to his room. When they arrived, Jon narrowed his eyes at the sight of iron bars that made up his new accommodation.

"Sorry," said the marine sheepishly, "we didn't have any rooms to spare, but we put in a nice mattress and we promise not to lock the doors." The marine walked off, chuckling awkwardly, while Jon entered the brig and made himself at home. He took off his precious trilby, laid his head down on the firm pillows and was finally able to relax. He worried about the Lieutenant Commander's suspicions and his clearly otherworldly setting, but he decided he could think about that later. Tomorrow was another day, and he could worry about his hallucinations then. He closed his eyes and his exhaustion took him.

* * *

 **Me again!**

 **Amazingly ,I seem to have made pretty good timing on this chapter, and the next one is already half done. Originally I was going to have the 2nd and 3rd chapters be joined, but for the sake of even word counts it made more sense to split them.**

 **So, Jon is off the island, hazzah! Next chapter we will see his devil fruit in action and he will learn a little more about the world of One Piece.**

 **A quick note, don't fret, after next chapter the hallucination gag will end. It was pretty funny for the 1st and 2nd chapters but the humour has run its course and its time for it to end.**

 **Also here's a thing, judging by how quickly I've been writing these chapters, i'm going to do something a little reckless and announce...**

 **EXPECT WEEKLY UPDATES! Yep... i'm going to regret those words.**

 **As someone reminded me in a review, I will try to ensure that all of my chapters are between 3000-4000 words long, because that seems to work best with my style of pacing. This may change with certain longer scenes, e.g. fight scenes, but expect that in general.**

 **As always, thanks for the reviews, please keep them coming as they are greatly appreciated, even if its just like, a word. Like a one word review that just says, "Nice." That is enough ^.^**

 **Toodles!**

 **PokefanLJB**

 **(Last updated 08/11/2016)**


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